The Dream  Part One: Opening Shots
by thew40
Summary: A Mutant attack has led to an out-pouring of renewed Mutant hatred.  With the X-Men trying to determine the nature of the attack, forces begin to align themselves in preparation for war!
1. Prelude

**X-MEN**

THE DREAM

PART ONE: OPENING SHOTS

**Author's Note:** This how I envision the end of the X-Men. Having recently stopped reading the books, I desire closure from the overall story. This is what that is. The events of this story only take in account everything up until the end of "Second Coming." While some vague references to other storylines might be made (for example, "Curse of the Mutants"), this is intended to feature a divergence in the timeline after "Second Coming."

I figured, if Claremont can write "X-Men Forever," then I can write this. Right?

**DISCLAIMER: **X-Men is the property of Marvel Entertainment Group. This story is written for non-profit reasons and for entertainment purposes only.

* * *

**Prelude**

I am fire . . .

**YOU HAVE A TASK.**

I am light and darkness . . .

**THE WORLD IS AT A CROSSROADS. WE CAN NOT ALLOW THE END OF IT.**

I am life incarnate . . .

**YOU KNOW THE WORLD. YOU WERE CHOSEN FOR THIS REASON. YOU WERE REPLACED FOR THIS REASON.**

Now . . .

**YOU WERE JOINED FOR THIS REASON. YOU ARE COMPLETE NOW. GATHERED AND BURNING.**

. . . And forever . . .

**YOUR TIME HAS COME.**

I am Phoenix.

**BURN AWAY WHAT DOES NOT WORK.**


	2. Issue One

**Issue One: Information Sharing**

Logan awoke with a start, heart and head pounding. He ran his weathered and cracked hands across his face and sat up. It was that dream again, that damn dream. Logan turned and hoisted himself out of bed, his Adamantium bones feeling heavier than ever. His muscles tensed as he tried to wash the dream out of his mind. He tried to relax, tried to find the place in his mind that gave him peace in the dark hours of the night . . .

All he saw the crisp imagery of his dream.

He needed to wash it out.

Beer helped.

Logan bounded down the stairs of his cabin, arriving shortly in the darkness of the kitchen. Outside, the wind and rain howled and pounded his Muir Island home. His powerful hearing could separate the rain from the waves; something most people from this distance couldn't.

The light from the fridge shined brightly into the Logan's face. He sighed at the sight. No beer. Damn.

Logan closed the door to the fridge and walked across the living room. Thunder rumbled now. A storm was brewing. Logan closed his eyes. The dream remained with him. It didn't fade. In fact, now fully awake, the dream persisted in the back of his mind. It ate every thought, every idea. Every attempt to break away from it only brought it stubbornly back.

Long minutes of stress and tension only brought Logan frustration. He wanted a beer now more than ever. And he knew where to get one.

The backdoor opened after Logan punched in his access code. Soaking wet, he marched into the kitchen of his neighbor across the island. Logan took off his boots and his jacket. Underneath, he wore a pair of sweats and a single t-shirt that was streaked with water.

Again, he made for the fridge.

"I'm all out, I'm afraid."

Charles Xavier was aware of Logan's intentions the very second his former X-Man stepped outside. Logan knew Charles was coming to see him as soon as approached the backdoor; he heard the creaking of Charles bed, the patter of his feet on the floor.

"Damn." Logan sighed. "Mornin', by the way."

"Good morning. Is it morning?"

"Two in the, yeah."

Charles nodded. "I see. Tell me, my friend, what has you over here in the middle of the night raiding my fridge for beer?"

"Bored."

"Unlikely." Charles smirked. "It was your dream again?"

Logan looked Charles in the eyes. "You aren't - ?" He motioned at his temple.

"Rhane told me."

Logan shook his head. "Rhane. Four people livin' on this entire island and we still got a gossip. Figgers."

"I have some brandy in my study. Why don't you join me and we can talk about it . . ."

"I . . ." Logan blinked and shook his head. "All right."

Logan followed Charles through the Professor's home. They reached the study, where Charles asked Logan to start a fire in the fireplace. Charles poured them both some brandy.

Logan sipped it. Pretty good.

"Chuck, look . . ."

"Would it be easier for me to see it for myself?"

The man formerly known as Wolverine gave Charles a hard look. "No."

"Thought I would offer."

Outside, thunder rumbled closer, mixing in with the sounds of the ocean, the rain, and the winds. Logan took a deep breath and eyed his former mentor.

"It was . . . I've been having it for a couple of days, off and on. The only dream I've been having, really. When I do dream." Logan leaned forward and took another, longer draw from the brandy glass. "It's always on the moon. Always. In the Blue Area, with all those crazy Kree statues."

Charles noted this. It was where Phoenix – Jean – had been fought over and had ultimately died. There was more to it than that, but it was a deeply significant place for nearly all of his X-Men. Himself and Logan, especially.

"Did you see Jean?"

"No. Not . . . not at first . . ."

"Then who?"

"Rose."

Charles took in this information. Logan virtually never talked about her.

"She's standing . . . on this platform. Screaming at the top of her lungs for help. Ancient alien stuff all around her. It's a strange sight, y'know? Girl from that time, standin' on the moon? Especially there, in an abandoned Kree colony?" He tried to smile, but it didn't last. He swirled the brandy in its glass, hearing the ice tap the sides. "I was standing nearby, but there was something digging into my arms. I can't move to help her."

"What was holding you back?"

"Creed. Romulus. All those bastards. Their claws in up and down my arms, holdin' me back tight."

"Significant," Charles said, leaning forward. "Logan . . . I think - "

"I'm not done."

Charles fell back against his chair. "Go on."

"I looked up and there was Earth, burnin'. Everything caught fire. Romulus, Wild Child, Creed . . . they were all laughing it up behind me. And then there was . . . there was this fireball . . . it fell from the Earth and landed right on poor Rose's head." He paused before taking another draw of the brandy. "She burned alive. And then Jean was there."

"Jean?" Charles tilted his head.

Logan looked at Charles. He had a funny look on his face. Logan ignored it and finished his glass. "Yeah. And then . . . I wake up . . ." He gestured to the floor.

Charles took a sip of his own glass and looked his friend over. "Logan, I believe that - "

"I don't really want an analysis." Logan stood up. "I'm sorry, Charles, but I ain't in the mood, I guess."

"I understand. If you want, I can help you get some sleep . . ."

"Nah. Actually, the brandy helped. And, uh, talking about it."

Charles smiled. "Good."

Logan looked outside. The rain was still pouring. "I'm gonna head back. Thanks Prof."

"Anytime, my friend. Obviously." Charles made a small gesture to the clock. Logan gave him a smirk and walked out.

Charles waited for a moment, then stepped to the window. Outside, the storm began to pick up. The waves turned harsh. Charles swirled his brandy thoughtlessly. Logan's dream disturbed him. Not the idea that Logan was losing touch with the inner peace that he had been able to find. Quite the contrary, he was proud that Logan was able to open up to him about it.

No, it was the appearance of Jean in Logan's dream. It wasn't uncommon, but . . .

When Logan mentioned Jean, Charles could hear something in Logan's mind. Something more quiet than a whisper. Almost a ping. Almost telepathic. Like a message. Like a warning.

Charles finished his brandy and set the glass down. He wondered just how many other people were having a dream like that tonight . . .

* * *

**_Super-Human Initiative and Espionage, and Logistics Directive (SHIELD)_**

**_Helicarrier Alpha-Two, 'Steve Rogers'_**

**_Current Location: Ohio River Valley, 5.3 miles west of Marietta, Ohio_**

Director Natasha Romanov nodded curtly at the two guards as she walked to the door. She punched her access code and the doors parted, allowing her access. Formal briefing started promptly at 0900 hours, EST. Precise as ever, it was five seconds before 0900 hours when she walked in and two seconds before by the time she sat down. As soon as she sat, the clock in her mind and on her wrist turned over. Formal debriefing had begun.

"Ladies and gentlemen, good morning," she said, her Russian accent dulled a little after so many years in the States. "Let us begin, shall we?"

She looked across the room at representatives from various government operations. Interpol, the FBI, the CIA, Mossad, SWORD, MI-6, MI-13, the Pentagon, Camp Hammond, etc. Each one had a report for her. Typically, there wasn't much she needed from them. But today, she had concerns.

"Any more missing persons?" she asked, directing her question as CIA Agent Jim Duncan.

"Yes, ma'am." He glanced at his fellow representatives from the other intelligence organizations. "We've confirmed five more missing last night. Two from the UK, one from South Africa, one from Korea, and one from Mexico. We're currently working on tracking down various leads to confirm that they are connected with the other missing persons."

"How many does that bring us to?" questioned Pete Wisdom, representing MI-13.

"Three hundred and two," Duncan answered.

"Are we sure they're connected?" asked Initiative Director Vance Astrovik, formerly known as Justice.

"Energy signatures are just about identical, yes."

Natasha sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Three hundred and two missing persons in four days. Each one possibly teleported. Are any super-human teams investigated this as well?"

Vance pulled up a few files onto his laptop. "The Fantastic Four are still missing after the incident with Doom and Galactus. The Avengers have been occupied with the current upheaval in Wakanda, although I've been assured they're looking into it. Ah, I do have a memo here stating that X-Factor Investigations is currently requesting all information SHIELD has on this . . .

"X-Factor Investigations? Jamie Maddrox is still in business?"

Vance and Natasha both looked over at Henry McCoy, the blue-furred Beast. He exchanged looks with his current girlfriend, Abigail Brand, Director of SWORD.

"Henry, weren't a member of X-Factor for a while?" Natasha asked.

Hank pushed his glasses up his snout. "Same name, different team. But I know Maddrox. We've worked together numerous times."

Natasha nodded. "Would you be willing to work with him again? Give his team some assistance?"

"As an Agent of SHIELD? Agent of SWORD?"

Natasha shrugged. "Does it matter? You've been both. X-Man, Avenger, X-Factor person, etc etc. I am asking you to assistant your friend and help us bridge a connection between our two investigations."

Hank thought for a few seconds, then agreed. "Okay, I'll give Jamie a call."

"Good kitty." Natasha smiled at the glances between the various representatives in the room. Hank flushed crimson beneath his blue fur. Natasha turned her attention to Agent Brand, the green-haired half-alien. "Any sort of alien possibility?"

"Not at first glance, Commander. However . . ."

"Yes?"

"We've detected a starship on a direct course for Earth."

"Can we id it yet?"

"No, but I don't think it's connected. The mass is not quite right for a cargo of over three hundred."

"Nevertheless, keep an eye on it."

Agent Brand nodded and exchanged a look with Beast. Natasha was about to address the group again when a klaxon ran out. The Helicarrier lurched beneath them; they were changing direction. A door on the side of the room opened up and an aide came running in.

"Director! Excuse the intrusion, but - "

"Out with it," Natasha grumbled, standing up.

"There's been a major attack."

"Where?"

"Los Angeles, ma'am. Mutant incident. Major casualties."

Hank stood up. "Who was involved?"

"The Marauders, but the X-Men were also on the scene."

Natasha walked to the doors. "Talk to me. What happened exactly?"


	3. Issue Two

**Issue Two: An Incident**

_Two hours ago._

Scott Summers stared out the balcony and soaked in the early morning air. The ocean sprayed against the rocky surface of Utopia and the rising cast a beautiful light on San Francisco. He had to remind himself to relax. That he did it. He got Mutantkind through some of the darkest moments in its history. It hadn't been easy and it cost him much, but . . .

Cerebra was finding new mutants again. As Scott poured his coffee, Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters in Snow Valley, Massachusetts was teeming with sixty-some Mutant students. When they graduated, those students could either go on with their normal lives . . . or move onto joining Storm's X-Men in Westchester. Or his own team here.

It was good. He patted himself on the back for seeing his fellow Mutants to this point of prosperity. It had only cost him Emma Frost.

He turned back from the balcony and crossed the empty room. The doors suddenly flew open and a little girl with curly blonde hair came bounding in.

"Daddy!"

Scott scooped his daughter Ruby into his arms and planted a big kiss on her cheek. "Hey sweetie. Have had your breakfast yet?"

"Not yet, Daddy."

"Well, let's fix that."

He carried his three year old daughter down the spiral staircase and down a long corridor until they reached the pantry. She leapt from his grasp and landed firmly on the tile floor.

"What would like today, honey?"

"Pancakes!"

Scott tilted his head. "Uh, how about cereal?"

"Pancakes, Daddy!"

"Oatmeal?"

"I want pancakes!"

Scott had led the X-Men against the hordes of the Brotherhood, in the waiting arms of the Sentinels, against the forces of Magneto, Apocalypse, and Sinister. He had saved the Earth at least five times – twice single-handedly. He could pilot a starship, space shuttle, and Blackbird. He had the power in his eyes to blast a mountain in half.

But Scott Summers couldn't master pancakes for the life of him.

"I really think we should go with toast."

"Daddy!"

"Wow, loud!" yelped Hope Summers, walking into the kitchen at that moment. "Scott, what's for breakfast?"

"I want pancakes, Daddy," Ruby pouted.

"Honey, Daddy doesn't know how . . ."

"Really?" questioned Hope. "You really don't know how to make pancakes?"

"Er, I mean, I can, but . . . it's the flipping that . . ."

"Ugh. Don't worry, Ruby, Auntie Hope will make you some pancakes."

Scott put his hands on his hips. "And just how do you know how to make pancakes?"

"Nathan showed me."

"Really now? When was this?"

"When I was Ruby's age and again when we had to live on this spaceship for a while. He had this great way of converting ration powder into pancakes." She smirked and went about making pancakes for the three of them. Scott smiled a little too.

Hope had been with them for a number of years. While most of her classmates had moved onto the Snow Valley campus, she remained here at Utopia. His relationship with her was still a little odd; she was Summers in name only, raised by his own time displaced son Nathan in the future.

Hope did have a great relationship with Ruby. When Ruby was home (which was with Emma at Snow Valley) and Hope wanted to visit her friends, she would make the time to hang out with Ruby. It made Scott happy to see that.

"So, do you want anything in your pancakes, Ruby?"

"Yes! I want - "

The lights went red throughout all of Utopia. An alarm sounded. Ruby screamed. Scott put his hands on her shoulders gently to calm her. The telepathic voices of Three-in-One (also known as Irma, Phoebe, and Celeste Cuckoo) called into Scott's mind.

'The Maruadars are staging an attack in Hollywood. Two confirmed kills.'

Scott didn't need a second to think. 'Link me to the others, girls.'

"Ruby, I need you to stay here with Aunt Hope, okay?"

"Daddy, what's going on?"

"Just trust me, okay?"

"Okay . . ." she whined.

Scott kissed her on the chubby cheek. "Don't worry, honey, I'll be back soon."

Scott marched out of the kitchen and then picked up speed, running down the corridor with great strides. Ruby looked back over at Hope, who was staring at him. Hope caught Ruby's gaze and cleared her throat.

"So what did you want in your pancakes again?"

* * *

"X-Men! Alert! This not a drill! Primary team, in the hanger in three minutes! Secondary team, remain at Utopia and await further instructions!" Scott, pulling on his Cyclops gear, shouted as he ran. These same commands were being communicated via telepathy thanks to the Cuckoos.

"Surge, have Prodigy contact X-Men East and ask them to be on stand-by! X-Men West, this is Cyclops. This is not a drill!"

Cyclops entered the hanger just as the other members of his team arrived. Archangel and Iceman were warming up the X-Jet. Cannonball and Sunspot were climbing the gangplank. M, Rogue, and Gambit were all right on Cyclops heels. Northstar was waiting inside.

Cyclops adjusted his skullcap. "The Marauders have attacked Hollywood, killing two people. We can't discern a target."

The X-Jet shot out of hanger and sped along the coast. Coordinates were being broadcasted into Archangel and Iceman's minds from the Cuckoos.

"Our strategy is simple. As soon as we hit the city limits, Rogue, M, Northstar, Cannonball, and Archangel will move in and engage the Marauders. Keep them occupied until the rest of us are land and make our attack. A one-two punch should knock some fight out of them. Once the two squads converge on the target, M, Northstar, Cannonball, and Iceman are on civilian duty. Get everyone you can out of there and return to the fight."

"Do we know who exactly this is? What roster?"

Cyclops asked the Cuckoos. "Archlight, Blockbuster, Harpoon, Prism, Riptide, Scalphunter, Vertigo. No one we haven't faced before." He looked to Gambit. "Gambit, your role is to find out what they're doing here."

Gambit nodded and checked to make sure he had his trademark deck of cards.

"One last thing . . . remember - these are the Marauders. They're murderers. Remember what they did to the Morlocks and what they did in Alaska. If Sinister is pulling their stringer, they most likely have about ten clones hidden some place in the world. That being said, I am authorizing lethal force. I know it's Hollywood and there are cameras everywhere. I don't want America to see us killing anyone, let alone other Mutants, but if we need to, we need to. Understood?"

Nods came from all around.

"Entering Los Angeles airspace!"

Cyclops popped open the door. "Flight team, let's go!"

Cannonball blasted ahead of them, zooming over the Hollywood sign. He was flanked by Northstar, who quickly sped past the young X-Man. They set their course for a dark pillar of smoke rising from downtown. Archangel and Rogue flew side-by-side towards the battle.

"This is bad," Archangel said, his vast, feathered wings flapping hard.

"Tell me about it." Rogue glanced at her teammate. "Yah sure yer up for this?"

Archangel remembered what the Marauders did to him in the Morlock tunnels. He grinned darkly. "Yep." His wings pushed harder, propelling him faster towards the battle. Rogue sighed and caught up quickly.

* * *

The latest celebrity power couple was dead. Three cops were shot by their fellow officers who, thanks to Vertigo, couldn't aim. Those officers were dead too, thanks to Riptide. Eight in total. Two Hollywood executives, including a studio head, were killed by Blockbuster. A writer was dead at his table, his wife unconscious and critical, their baby bawling her eyes out.

A waiter who had appeared in two movies as an extra was beheaded. A waitress was shot in the head. A passer-by had her dog cut in two before her left and arm were shattered by Archlight. Eighteen other patrons were severely injured and two were able to make it out of the restaurant alive before the X-Men arrived.

Northstar and Cannonball were on the scene first. Northstar made for Prism, his fist cracking the Mutant's crystal body. Northstar was able to punch Prism five more times before anyone else could intervene. That would have been Scrambler, but Archangel intercepted him.

A quick from above knocked Scrambler off balance.

"Ass!" grunted, Scrambler.

"Go ahead," Archangel retorted as Scrambler reached out and caused Archangel's powers to go haywire. This meant his wings went out of control; this allowed Archangel to smash them against Scrambler and let them bash him uncontrollably.

Harpoon, rising from a destroyed SWAT van and its recently murdered occupants, grinned at his old target. He raised his energy harpoon and let it sail –

It struck Cannonball, who flew in at just the right time. Unfortunately for him, the attack destabilized his blast. Cannonball crashed into the ground, but managed to roll onto his feet. He ducked underneath an in-coming punch from Blockbuster. Blockbuster was then blasted back by a stream of solar energy.

Sunspot came racing to Cannonball's rescue.

"My hero," Cannonball said.

"Yeah, yeah. Do your job!"

"X-MEN! REMEMBER THE PLAN!" Cyclops ordered, arriving on the scene with the rest of the team.

His optic blast smashed into Archlight, allowing Rogue to zoom in on her. Rogue got off a good roundhouse kick to Arclight's face, but the Marauder struck back by punching Rogue in the stomach. Rogue took the hit as best she could. Archlight struck again, punching Rogue across the face.

Rogue stumbled back, allowing Archlight to fall forward. Rogue then grabbed Arclight's head and smashed it into the ground.

Iceman issued a ten feet thick, twenty feet high wall of ice around the battle zone. Archangel, M, and Cannonball launched themselves out of the fight, with most of the enemies defeated. Sunspot turned and faced Riptide, who launched shurikens from his body with amazing speed. Each one melted before they could strike Sunspot. In response, Sunspot's fired his solar power at him, blasting him into side of a cop car.

Gambit went after Scalphunter. Every weapon Scalphunter produced was destroyed in his hands thanks to Gambit's swiftness. Gambit then propelled himself up with his staff and kicked Scalphunter in the forehead. Scalphunter tumbled onto the pavement. Gambit landed squarely on him, pinning him down his staff and holding a dozen energized cards.

"Johnny, mon ami, we need to talk, yes?"

"I got nothin' to say to you, Cajun!"

"You don't? I think we can change that!"

Scalphunter smiled. "Let me put it this way, Cajun. You can torture me. You can kill me. But it doesn't matter. I don't plan on living past today anyways. And neither should you."

"And why's that?

Scalphunter's smile widened. Gambit started dropping cards on him.

It took two blasts from both Sunspot and Cyclops to take down Blockbuster. Rogue reached for his unconscious body and tossed him next to the others. Rogue was suddenly attacked by Vertigo, whose power made the world around Rogue look upside. Cyclops was about to attack when –

Prism appeared out of nowhere. Cyclops fired, shooting the one Marauder he tried to avoid. Once his Optic Blast entered Prism, it refracted and reflected within his crystalline body. He held it in – and Scrambler showed up, touched Prism and used his power on him.

Prism's powers went chaotic, the Optic Blast dividing rapidly throughout his body.

"X-MEN! DOWN!" roared Gambit, arriving on the scene.

Prism's body shattered as the Optic Blast roared out of him.

Seven hundred Optic Blast beams sliced through the air, cutting into buildings all around them.

Glass and concrete exploded throughout the city. Cyclops himself was struck by his own beam. He fell to the ground and lost consciousness just as the screaming began.


	4. Issue Three

**Issue Three: Sinister**

_Present. Utopia._

_". . . the list of casualties in Los Angeles are still coming in. Property damage is expected to be in at least the mid- millions. SHIELD agents have flooded the streets, trying to assess the exact nature of the attack that devastated the city. We know only the basic facts. A Mutant group calling itself the Marauders attacked a famous Hollywood restaurant. The X-Men intervened and there was some kind of energy blast shortly after. Details are sketchy beyond that . . ."_

Cyclops pressed the 'mute' button and turned to Director Romanov.

"So . . . what are the details, Mister Summers?"

Cyclops sat down and pulled off his skullcap. "It was a trap. The Marauders attacked, we got into it. Prism jumped into position just as I was about to use my power to help my teammate. He took the blast, began to reflect within himself, allowed his own powers to be disrupted by Scrambler, and caused the blast."

Natasha tapped her fingers against the table. Cyclops shook his head.

"Look, I know it's not - "

"A video was put onto the web three hours ago. We just found it. Would you like to see it?"

Cyclops nodded slowly. Natasha pressed a few buttons on a computer pad on the table. A holographic screen appeared. On the screen were the Marauders.

_"WE SHALL ATTACK HUMANITY WHERE IT IS RICHEST. WE SHALL ATTACK THE RICH AND THE COMFORTABLE! YOU DARE LOUNGE WHILE WE STRUGGLE TO SURVIVE! YOU DARE GROW FAT AS WE GO HUNGRY? WE WILL SET AN EXAMPLE FOR HUMANITY – THE TIME OF YOUR COMFORT HAS COME TO AN END!"_

Blockbuster did most of the speaking. The video ended. Cyclops tilted his head back.

"It will be going public any minute now. Mutants killing celebrities. Mutants killing cops. Mutants killing families and normal people. Not a pleasant picture, Mister Summers." Natasha crossed her arms. "I am not going to hold you or your people responsible. You can trust me to that. But your public opinion just went upside down. The people just lost faith in Mutantkind to police their own."

"Is that a threat, Director?"

"Absolutely not. But understand something, Mister Summers. Fury, Bridge, Hill, Stark, Rogers . . . they all trusted the X-Men to deal with Mutant issues. I would like to as well. But if something like this happens again, I can not allow you to be involved. Understand?"

Cyclops nodded. Natasha stood up. "Good. Keep me informed, Mister Summers. I want to know where your investigation will take you."

* * *

_Washington DC_

Lightning came down and hit the building in just the right spot. It zoomed through the pipes and into the wires, popping and sizzling all electric items. All the alarms and defenses were blown out. Back-up batteries quietly exploded and melted. Sparks shot out briefly from sockets throughout the building.

Once the lightning ran its course, two figures slid through the ceiling. They landed solidly onto the top floor. Colossus and Shadowcat; husband and wife.

"All clear so far," Shadowcat said into her headset.

Lightning blasted a hole in the roof. Storm, Warpath, and Psylocke landed alongside the Rasputins. Storm lifted her arms, a breezing shuffling through the papers, blowing dirt and dust into the air. It was shot out the hole and into the open air.

"Nothing so far," Warpath said, his senses taking in every scent.

"Psylocke?"

"No life-forms. Nothing," Psylocke answered, her telepathic scan coming back negative.

"Shadowcat, go below please," Storm said. Shadowcat vanished into the floor. "The rest of you, spread out. Search the entire building."

Years and years ago, this was the home of Mister Sinister's Nasty Boys. It was the first of many leads the X-Men were following up on. It was apparent within minutes that it hadn't been used since the Nasty Boys had their encounter with X-Factor all that time ago.

After an hour of thorough investigation, the already condemned building was evacuated by the X-Men. The X-Jet, cloaked in the field next to it, waited for them. Storm paused before she entered.

"Are we waiting on something?" asked Warpath.

Four lightning strikes blasted the building, immediately catching it on fire. Two minutes later, hurricane force winds and rains put the fire out. The building was completely demolished at this point, unusable to all. Storm exhaled and boarded. In the cockpit, Warpath and Shadowcat laid in a course back to Salem Center.

Storm watched as the world flew past outside the window. She pulled her white hair back into a ponytail and sighed. She wondered what Scott was going through. If he was blaming himself at all. She considered what she would have done and it most likely would have been the same – a lightning blast instead of an Optic one. Almost as bad.

Storm took her seat next to Colossus.

"Ororo . . ."

She perked an eyebrow

"Yes, Peter?"

"Scott just called. Emma and the Professor are putting together a telepathic conference call. He asked to signal you whenever you're ready."

Storm nodded and lowered her telepathic defenses. As soon as she did, she could hear Emma Frost in her mind, asking if she was ready. Storm replied in the positive.

* * *

Storm was sitting on an office chair around a wooden table that floated high in the clouds. Cyclops was sitting across from her, next to Captain Britain. Emma Frost was next to Storm and Professor X was sitting at the end of the table.

"Thank you, Emma and Charles, for setting this up," Cyclops offered. "Where are we?"

"The raid in Washington DC was unsuccessful. No one has been to that base in years," Storm answered. "Darwin, Armor, Warlock and Cypher are in Canada investigating one of the leads up there. The secondary team is looking into the old Nebraska orphanage."

Cyclops leaned back and crossed his arms. "Make sure they're careful." His old homestead was probably still full of booby traps.

"I trust their judgment, Scott," Storm returned.

"The old annex that Essex became Sinister in is empty," Captain Britain reported.

"As is the Muir Island complex he used after Hope's birth," Charles stated. "Logan, Rhane, and I have checked it thoroughly."

"Rogue and Gambit are still in Seattle. Iceman and Cannonball are at the North Pole. I expect to hear from them soon."

Emma sighed. "And what exactly is going to happen once you all find Sinister? Has it maybe occurred to you that Sinister is hiding for a reason? Why would he be at one of his old haunts?"

"She, we believe," Charles corrected her. "Nathaniel Essex is still reportedly dead. The working theory is that Claudine Renko is in charge of the Marauders now."

Cyclops nodded in agreement. "Exactly. And if that's the case, there could be a brand new set of goals."

"And targets," Captain Britain reminded them.

"Excuse me," Storm said suddenly. "I'm getting a report from Psylocke."

Storm's telepathic avatar vanished for a few seconds, and then reappeared.

"What did you find?" Cyclops asked.

"Warlock and Cypher found an active sensor at Sinister's old facility in Ontario. They tracked it back to a location near El Maguey, Mexico."

Cyclops stood up. "Okay. I'm calling back my team. Storm?"

"We will join you."

"Give me two hours to get everyone gathered and we'll converge five miles south of the location." Cyclops looked to Charles, Emma, and Captain Britain. "Thank you for your assistance."

"Scott . . . before you pull your head out of this meeting, I'd like you to have Ruby sent back. It's probably safer here."

Cyclops paused. "I'll . . . I'll call you in a few minutes, but you're probably right. I'll have Hope take her home in a little while."

With that, the telepathic meeting came to an end.

* * *

Scott rolled his shoulders, trying to work the tension out of his muscles. Sighing, he replaced his glasses with his visor and looked for Ruby. His daughter was watching TV in the rec room with Hope. He leaned against the doorframe and enjoyed the brief moment of peace for the girl.

She had been born about year after Hope arrived in this timeline. Ruby brought with her a mixed bag of emotions for Scott and Emma. Emma had never considered becoming a mother an option in her life. When presented with the pregnancy, she approached it bull-headed. She wanted out of the X-Men completely.

Scott, remembering his relationship with Maddie after Nathan was born, wanted to be the best possible father to Ruby. But he couldn't leave the X-Men – they needed him more than ever. So Emma left. However, both agreed to keep as much an active relationship with Ruby as possible. He was there for every major event, even if it was simply telepathically, viewing it through Emma's eyes.

His moments with Ruby were so brief, though. His couldn't quite let her go home yet. Just not yet.

"Scott, everything okay?"

"Yeah, Hope. Ruby? Come here please?"

Ruby walked over to her father and he embraced her. "Are you going away, Daddy?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah, for a little while. Just a mission, honey."

"Be careful, Daddy. I'll miss you."

Scott kissed her chubby cheek. "I'll miss you, too. But I'll be home soon. Promise."

* * *

Two X-Jets set down on the dry, hard dirt. The one that came from the west opened first, revealing Cyclops' X-Men West team: Cyclops himself, Cannonball, Archangel, Sunspot, M, Rogue, Gambit, Northstar, and Iceman. The X-Men East team marched out from the second: Storm, Colossus, Shadowcat, Psylocke, Darwin, Warlock, Cypher, Warpath, and Nate Grey (known as Shaman now).

The two teams eyed each other for several moments before beginning to mingle a little. Cyclops approached Storm.

"Ororo, been a while since we've seen each other in person."

"Yes. Too long. How is Ruby?"

"Growing like a weed."

Storm smiled at her counter-part. "That is pleasant to hear." She looked over the team. Gambit, Rogue, Colossus, and Shadowcat were all chatting. Cannonball, Sunspot, Warpath, Warlock, and Cypher were quickly catching up. Archangel and Psylocke were avoiding each other. Shaman and M were talking about something unimportant.

"Teams! Let's head out!" Cyclops ordered.

The group started its march. Cypher and Warlock approached Cyclops and Storm. "We've been blocking Sinister's sensors since both X-Jets left their respective coasts. He – or she – won't see us coming."

"Good job."

They began to approach a lone cottage in the middle of the desert. The windows were broken, the door was missing and there were holes in the ceiling. Cyclops and Storm led the teams into position. With barely a word, Storm unleashed gale force winds around them. Dirt and dust blinded all visual sensors, helping Warlock and Cypher's blindspot. Just in case there were cameras at work.

Shaman raised his hands, shaping the dirt and dust around them. Cyclops nodded in approval.

"Good job, Nate."

"Thanks."

They reached the cottage.

Within, Iceman iced up the walls. Shaman, Storm, and Rogue approached the center of the cottage, where a round hatch in the floor sat. Cyclops looked back to the others, alerting them to be ready. Storm fired a lightning bolt at the hatch. Shaman telekinetically released any and all locks within. Rogue punched it hard.

The hatch snarled into a mess. Rogue then pulled it right out, revealing a ladder below. Darwin, Rogue and Shadowcat went down first. No weapons fired, no defenses kicked on. This was too easy. Or it was pointless.

The rest of the X-Men followed.

At the bottom of the ladder was a huge, circular chamber. Long cables covered the surface of the chamber, barely leaving any gaps for the walls. There was one door.

And it opened.

The X-Men prepared themselves.

Claudine Renko, Miss Sinister herself, walked out. She wasn't alone; next to her was Calvin Rankin, the former X-Man known as Mimic. Miss Sinister was also obviously pregnant.

"You could have just knocked," she said. "Seriously. Very rude."

"What are you guys doing here?"

"That is a fine question coming from you, Mister Rankin," Storm replied.

"Cal and I are working on an experiment." She grinned sheepishly, running a pale hand across her rounded center. "Don't tell me . . . you're here about the Marauders."

Cyclops marched forward. "Exactly. Tell us why you set them loose on innocent civilians!"

"I did nothing of the sort, Scott."

"Coming from someone who has been manipulating me my entire life?"

"That was my father. I'm done with the Summers. With everyone, really. Except Cal." She patted Mimic on the chest. "If you must know, the Marauders have been cut loose. I let out the last set of clones, then destroyed all the back-ups."

"I don't believe you."

"Read my mind. You have three telepaths back there. Have them take a look."

Cyclops weighed this option. Psylocke was more than capable. M, to a certain extent. Shaman, absolutely. Even if it was a trap, there was no way she could block out or catch all three. He glanced at Storm, who seemed to share his exact thought.

"Shaman, Psylocke, M?"

The trio walked around Miss Sinister. Psylocke slide her psi-knife into Sinister's forehead. M and Nate Grey simply probed her mind without physical contact. After two minutes, the three of them withdrew.

"She's telling the truth," Psylocke reported. "The Marauders have become mercenaries for hire."

"Anything else?"

Shaman eyed Renko. "Not really . . ."

"I gotta ask, Cal, why are you with her? What are you doing here?" asked Archangel, stepping forward.

"There's a war coming, Warren. A big one. And the best place to be when that happens is where one belongs. I belong here."

The door behind them sealed shut. Miss Sinister arched a thin black eyebrow. "We will be going now. I suggest you do the same."

Claudine Renko, Miss Sinister, and Calvin Rankin, Mimic, vanished in a drizzle of crimson light and energy.

Cyclops grunted. Back to square one.


	5. Issue Four

**Issue Four: Val Cooper's Bad Day**

Valerie Cooper had a good feeling about the afternoon. Most of her paperwork was finished. All of her appointments had cancelled. She had one call to make to Washington, but it was nothing to make her stress out about. It was, for the first time in a long time, a slow day for the Office of National Emergency. And a slow day for Val.

Until Ned showed up at the door with a file folder.

"Director Cooper?"

"Yes, Ned, what is it?" Ned was a fat, middle-aged man from accounting. He was sweating already and practically shaking from nervousness.

"I-I-I-I found this, ma'am. This morning. It was misfiled with last years paperwork. I found it by accident, b-but I-I really think you n-n-need to see this . . ."

Val snatched the file folder from Ned's hands and opened it. Inside was a receipt for a 4.5 million dollar purchase made by the Office of National Emergency. Val blinked.

"Is this a joke?"

"No ma'am."

"Is this our account number? Whose signature is this?"

"I-I don't know."

"Which one?"

"Either, ma'am. I-I-I did s-some checking on the account number. It's a Swiss bank account."

"In our name?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Okay . . . this makes no sense." She studied the paper. "'Office of National Emergency' . . . 'Desk on Mutant Affairs' . . . 'Project: Protect the Home?'" She closed the file folder. "What the hell is 'Project: Protect the Home?'"

"I'm-I'm not sure."

"And we don't have a Desk on Mutant Affairs."

"N-no ma'am."

"Do we know what was purchased?"

"It's behind the receipt."

She flipped the folder back open. Behind the receipt was a half-sheet of paper with an address. Some lot of land in New Jersey.

"What the hell? Land? In Jersey?" She closed the folder and went to her computer. "It's not more than an hour from here. I'm going to check this out."

"Do-do you want some company?"

"No, Ned, you keep an eye out for other crap. I'm going alone."

* * *

Ninety minutes later, in the pouring rain, Val arrived at the lot. Sitting behind the wheel of her car, she stared dumbfounded at the abandoned amusement park that was apparently worth 4.5 million dollars. Equipped with a scanner she was given by Forge back during her X-Factor days, she changed into sneakers and stepped out of her car.

The scanner registered nothing.

The amusement park was more than a little terrifying. Broken down rides were littered around her. Unintelligible graffiti was sprayed across walls and rides. A carousel looked almost haunted by broken horses and wagons. The Ferris wheel looked like it was about to fall right over. Decaying clowns sat on either side of a funhouse.

Lightning began to flash above Val. The thunderstorm that she had been hoping to miss coming out here just got a lot harsher. Val stepped into the funhouse.

As soon as she did, the door slammed shut behind her. Val pulled out her gun. The lights clicked on, revealing ancient clowns, empty cages, broken mirrors, and a single door. Val, gun still drawn, made for the door. She kicked it open. The room beyond it was empty.

"WELCOME VAL COOPER, DIRECTOR OF O*N*E," a digital voice called out.

"What?"

The floor began to descend. Val kept her gun raised, her heart pounding as the entire floor took her underground. She reminded herself of her training. Of the skills she learned from Freedom Force and, mainly, X-Factor.

The floor finally stopped and on each of the four walls were closed doors. They were labeled: 'LAB,' 'COMMAND,' 'HANGER,' and 'MECHANICS.' Val approached Command first. She grabbed the handle, but it wouldn't budge.

"I'M SORRY VAL COOPER, DIRECTOR OF O*N*E, BUT THAT ROOM IS OFF-LIMITS," the digital female voice advised.

"Thanks," Val grumbled. Forge's scanner continued not to work.

Val tried Hanger and Mechanics next, but got the same thing. Locked door, apologetic voice. Finally, she tried the Lab. The door swung open for her. Val, gun raised, stepped inside. The door led to a corridor with blank metal walls. At the end of the corridor was another door. Val took in a deep breath and checked her phone. No reception. Great.

She walked down the corridor, gun still raised. Once she reached other side of the room, the door slid open and Val was given access to the lab. Or, as she would learn, one of the labs.

The sight of this one nearly brought Val Cooper to her knees. Amongst the numerous computer stations and advanced equipment were man-sized, liquid filled tubes. She walked up to them, bathed in green light generated by the fixtures on the top and bottom of the tubes.

Three of these tubes contained Brood. They hung, suspended in the liquid, with dozens of wires and cables on them. Two of the tubes contained Phalanx tech; these were untouched by anything (a wise decision). Another pair of tubes contained a man and a woman, naked and with numerous wires running up and down their naked bodies. Val couldn't tell if they were dead or alive. The final tube contained a Predator, previously created by Stryker's Purifiers.

"What is this place?"

"Director Cooper!"

Val spun around and pointed her gun at a man she vaguely recognized. He was medium height, well-built, blonde hair and goatee, and was wearing glasses.

"Whoa there! Easy!"

"What the hell is this? Who are you?"

"Agent Brent Jackson, formerly of the Weapon X Project."

Brent Jackson. The name rang a bell. Possibly from a briefing. "What is this?"

"Well, we were going to let you in on the secret anyways, but you're a little early." He was smiling. "Put the gun away, Director. You're amongst friends."

"Hardly! What is this place? What are you doing to these people?"

Brent continued to smile, his hands up. "This is the latest incarnation of Project: Protect the Home."

"And what is that?"

"It's an on-going project that works with both government agencies and the private sector to deal with the Mutant threat."

"I've been in literally hundreds of meetings about the 'Mutant threat' and no one has ever mentioned it."

"Well, that's a good thing. Nobody is really supposed to know about it." Brent sighed. "Look, put the gun down and I'll be more than happy to fill you in."

"No way."

"Sorry, Director, I've got to disagree."

Something clicked above Val. Suddenly, the gun was yanked out of her hands and encased in a crimson force field in mid-air.

"Sorry," Brent said, shrugging. "You just wouldn't listen to reason."

"Okay, no gun, so spill. What is this?"

"Project: Protect the Home began shortly after World War Two. It was classified above top secret and has been involved with various Mutant-related organizations over the years. It had its hand in the Weapon Plus Project, as well as its Weapon X off-shoots." He paused and smiled a little wider. "Let me tell ya, when I found out that this project was basically running or was involved with the Weapon X project, I wasn't happy. But then I found out we're all working towards the same goal."

"Being what?"

"The containment or eradication of the Homo Superior species."

Val rolled her eyes. "You're kidding right? This again? Really?"

"It's no joke, Director. Project: Protect the Home has been running since 1948. Other than being involved in Weapon Plus, it was also part of Project Wideawake, Operation: Zero Tolerance, the Hound program, and just about every Sentinel program. Heck, it was even what funded Bolivar Trask's Mark I Sentinel program."

"This is insane. If the program has been around for so long, how has been it hiding?"

"It's like a virus, Director. It gets into other programs and makes its home there, secret and lying dormant until it awakens. Why, it recently joined your little organization."

"The Desk of Mutant Affairs."

"That's right. In fact, you're looking at the man behind that desk."

Val looked Brent Jackson over. "So what are you going to do?"

"The news is about to break that the extinction gene in all Homo Sapiens has been activated. Humanity will no longer be in existence within four generations. Can you imagine that, Director? We'll be extinct!"

Val didn't believe a word out of Jackson's mouth, but nodded all the same. "Maybe it's just our time."

"Oh, we don't think so. Project: Protect the Home is about to jump into high gear. Our latest project is our most ambitious. See, we've joined up with another group. This one has been in the private sector and it too has been involved with the Weapon Plus Project. The Sublime Corporation."

"John Sublime? He's alive?"

"Alive and well. And between our two organizations, we have the ultimate solution for dealing with the Mutant race once and for all. The last piece of the puzzle is you, actually. Like I said, you're early . . ."

Val put her hands on her hips. "You can't honestly believe I'll help you."

"We had hoped you would have come voluntarily . . ."

A door elsewhere in the lab opened. Out walked the pink-skinned, white-haired Bastian. Val gasped. In his hand was a small piece of Phalanx tech.

Val started to run, but Bastian blasted her with a stun beam. She collapsed and Bastian stood over her.

"I see you know our project manager," Brent laughed.

"Do not resist," Bastian said. And once the Phalanx tech touched her skin and infected her brain, Val had no choice. There was no resistance.


	6. Issue Five

**Issue Five: Bad News**

Ozymadias finished his latest work and stood back. Imbued with temporal energy and forced to inscribe in the ancient walls beneath the sands of Egypt, Ozymadias was rarely surprised by his work. Today was an exception. He stood in shock at what appeared on the wall after his work was finished. And he knew instantly what needed to be done.

He made some calls.

* * *

Seventy-two hours later, in the alleys of London, Jonothon Starsmore was running for his life. He had no choice in the matter, really. In days past, he was all about trying to fight back against creatures like those that chased. But powerless, Jono was without options. Using his training (thank you, Sean Cassidy), Jono used the city to his advantage.

Neither Tusk nor Gauntlet were in a position to be seen in public. Jono, on other hand, could be. His gray skin faded, his face intact, Jono could walk the Earth with no one none the wiser of what he had been. He took advantage of that. After running a basic obstacle course in the alleys, Jono made for Leicester Square and got lost in the crowd.

'Are they still tracking me?' he asked of himself. He pulled his hood up. They had attacked him on a deserted road back at Covent Garden. He had led on a chase here.

Jono recognized the two that attacked him. Tusk and Gauntlet, formerly of the Dark Riders. One of Apocalypse's old gangs. Jono was sure to read up on them – just like the Alliance of Evil and Four Horsemen. Keep an eye out for them, just in case they got it in their heads to go after him.

He considered his options as he got lost in a crowd. Jono needed to get back to his apartment and get his Decibel armor. Try and make a stand. Possibly call for help at that point. The X-Men or MI-13 might just respond.

He ducked into a night club, then snuck out and got a cab.

Jono looked all around him, looking for any sign that he was still being followed. There was none.

Jono was dropped off on the opposite side of his apartment building. He snuck into a window and took an obscene amount of time getting into his own apartment. Once there, he locked the door, opened his closet, and pulled out his Decibel armor.

He reached for his phone just as the wall exploded. Jono's armor used sound waves to protect him with a force field. Tusk leapt into the apartment and smashed his hands against the force field.

"Can't escape your destiny, boy."

"Screw off!" Jono responded, blasting Tusk across his room.

Jono felt a pinch in his neck. His body lost all its strength almost instantly. His hand felt a dart sticking out from his neck and he watched as Gauntlet appeared in the hole in the wall. Gauntlet stepped through the hole and observed Jono as the young former Mutant lost consciousness.

* * *

Scott rubbed the back of his neck, trying to relieve some of the tension.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Emma . . ."

"You were supposed to have Ruby back to me two days ago. You just now sent her home?"

"I wanted to spend some time with her, Em. That's all. I missed her."

There was silence on the other end of the line. Scott, with Emma on speaker, walked over to the phone. Emma grunted and sighed.

"Scott, you know you're headed into dangerous territory. There are protests at Mutant Community Centers! The kind of telepathic repellent I've had to put out there to keep them away from the school has been exhausting. Things are only going to get worse. And if you can't tear yourself away from the job, then . . . this is just going to be how it's going to be."

"Emma, don't make me make that decision again."

"There shouldn't be a decision, Scott. I gave up adventuring when I found out I was pregnant. You can give that up too, you know."

"'Adventuring?' I'm the leader of the X-Men. I can't just 'give that up.'"

"I know. And that's why Ruby needs to be home with me. I'll make sure she calls you when she and Hope get here."

The line went dead. Scott kicked the phone and its stand and then slammed his fist against the window. He hated the relationship he had with Emma. He hated how little he saw of his daughter. And he hated that what was most the most frustrating thing on his mind wasn't his family – but the question of who hired the Marauders.

The unfortunate thing was that most of them were either dead or on the run. Rogue and Gambit were out looking for Scalphunter. Three-In-One were trying to pinpoint the only other survivor, Blockbuster.

But the fact that this still took priority frustrated Scott more than the lack of answers. He just didn't know what else to do.

* * *

Kitty and Peter stepped into their apartment at the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. The most recent rebuilding of the mansion put it back to it original shape and size – with one exception. Instead of dorms, it was now equipped with apartments. They were nothing to write home about, but it was a luxury the mansion had been without previously.

"You want some dinner? I'm starved."

Peter nodded. "Yeah."

"Yeah?" Kitty smirked. "I miss it when you used to say 'da.'"

Peter smiled. "'Da,' then. I guess my accent has just slowly vanished since I've lived in the States."

"It's more than just your accent, Pete. I miss your old catchphrases too."

"Catchphrases?"

"'Lenin's Ghost!' 'By the white wolf!'" Kitty giggled.

Peter chortled a little. "My father used to say things like that. I guess they just stuck with me."

Kitty grinned at her husband and kissed him on the cheek. "So I need to talk to you."

"Yes, and what about?"

"About what we were talking about before the whole Marauders thing."

"Leaving the X-Men? Settling into civilian life?"

Kitty nodded. "Yeah, I mean, we held off because Scott and Ororo needed us. Because Mutantkind needed us." Her mind flashed back to the major Mutant crisis that happened shortly after her and Peter's wedding. It had been disappointing to return from their honeymoon and having to put the uniforms back on.

"You believe we've finished that route, yeah?"

"Yes. It's time for us to move on, Pete. I'm ready. When this whole thing is over . . . maybe we should do what we talked about . . ."

"Peter the farmer, Kitty the teacher." Peter rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully.

"Exactly. Green acres and all that."

Peter put his hands on his wife's hips. "Say the word, Katya, and I will pack the car myself."

"Damn right you will, muscles," she laughed, kissing him.

_Peter, Kitty, please come down to the parlor room, _Psylocke suddenly called out. _There's something you need to see. Something big._

Kitty rolled her eyes. Peter hung his head.

"Duty calls . . ." Kitty said, phasing the two of them through the floor.

Betsy, Ororo, Doug, and Jimmy were all standing around the television. Warlock flowed into the room just as Kitty and Peter landed on the floor.

"What's going on?"

"Shhh," Betsy shot and turned up the television. A man in a suit was joined by a group of men and women in various outfits. Some suits, some doctor's coats, some less formal wear. The man who stood front in center gripped the podium for life.

_"- thank you for joining us. As you know, we here at Genetic Benefits have for so long sought the ability to help save humanity from diseases that seek to never stop affecting our daily lives. Unfortunately, as we have continued to work on unlocking the secrets of genetic engineering and search for the hope that we can be better, we have uncovered a darker, and more disturbing fact._"

Ororo's eyes widened. She suddenly knew what was about to be announced.

"_The following has been confirmed by two independent genetic research consultants, including the Human Genome Project. According to our data, mankind will be extinct within four generations. Homo Superior will overcome Homo Sapien completely in roughly 150-200 years. Humanity will no longer exist._"

The press in front of the scientists exploded. Ororo turned to the others. The tension in the room thickened.

Without warning, the first major shot had been fired in the genetic war that was to come. It was not a bullet that was shot . . . not a knife that was thrown . . . nor a missile launched. It was a man in a suit behind a podium with an announcement that would echo throughout history.

The secondary team had joined them. Ororo Munroe understood now more than ever, that nothing would ever be the same again.


	7. Issue Six

Issue Six: Fall of the Hellfire Club

Ocean waters splashed and crashed against the rocky bank. Seagulls cried out and dove for small snacks on the ground. The sun was setting, casting the sky in heavy reds, oranges, and purples. The water cascaded up the rocks, splashing the naked feet of the island's visitor.

She walked along the rocky edge, allowing herself to feel the firm, solid earth beneath her; the foaming salt water rushing up to her ankles.

He was surprised to see her, of all places, in front of him.

The woman looked up at him, her eyes meeting his with fiery intensity.

"How long have you been here?" he asked.

She smiled. "Good to see you too, Magneto." She tilted her head. "Or Magnus or Erik Lensherr or Max Eisenhardt."

"You dare use that name?"

Her smile widened. "I dare use whatever name I want."

"And what, pray, shall I call you? Jean Grey-Summers? Marvel Girl? Phoenix?"

Jean crossed her arms across her chest. "Whichever you prefer."

"I thought you were dead."

"I was. You killed me."

"I did no such thing. That was Xorn."

Jean rolled her eyes and walked further up the rocky ledge. "That's a long story that you don't even know the half of yet."

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you. I came to talk to you."

"And when are the rest of the X-Men coming?"

"They don't know I'm back yet."

Erik perked an eyebrow. "Really now?"

"Really." Jean stepped over next to him. "Do you know what happened in New York City yesterday?"

"I haven't involved myself in the outside world in quite a while."

Jean nodded. "Then let me tell you something that will change that position . . ."

* * *

Thirty-two hours ago.

"Excuse me, sir? Would you like to try some of cologne?"

Rick Jerkins shoved past the saleswoman and continued on his way. She dashed after him, her heels clicking as she rushed to his side.

"Here, just try some!"

She squeezed to bottle, the cologne letting out a huge puff that covered chest and neck.

"Damn it, lady, I don't care about your effing cologne! Leave me the hell alone!"

He quickened his pace and the saleswoman sent a text to her boss. 'Delivery successful.'

Thirty hours ago.

Rick stood in the locker room of the Hellfire Club basement. Four other guards were present, each one ready to start their new shift.

"So what are we all doing here?" asked Benny, one of the guards.

"Mister Shaw asked for additional security tonight. I guess they're havin' some kinda emergency meetin' tonight."

"What fer?" asked John, the tallest of the four guards.

"That announcement today that humans are gonna be gone in somethin' like a 100 years or somethin.'"

"150-200," corrected Jerry, cleaning his gun. He looked up at Rick. "You feelin' alright, man?"

"No . . . some bitch sprayed me down with this shitty cologne on my way here. I think I'm . . ."

The word 'allergic' never left his mouth. Instead it burned. For the past two hours, nannites swarmed his body. Nerve clusters were lined with processors. Fusion reactors were installed through his digestive system. A data network were placed on top of his brain.

And it all came on-line.

John, Benny, Jerry, and Al all watched Rick's skin became covered in sweat and his eyes began to glow. His memory – his very life – was gone. His body was converted into a weapon. Cybernetic systems overcame organic ones. His muscle mass increased. His body temperature rocketed. He was no longer a man. No longer human.

"Prime Sentinel Alpha-Three-Alpha activated."

From the circular blaster on his palm, energy beams fired and destroyed the four guards. The Prime Sentinel formerly known as Rick then marched out the locker. Two guards ran to him. Rick opened his mouth and unleashed a spray. Within seconds, two companions joined him.

"Prime Sentinel Alpha-Three-Beta activated."

"Prime Sentinel Alpha-Three-Charlie activated."

"Prime Sentinel Alpha-Three-Alpha to O*N*E headquarters. Phase one complete. Awaiting phase two."

* * *

Upstairs, Sebastian Shaw looked over his fellow members of the Inner Circle of the Hellfire Club. Ms. Steed, the Black Queen and formerly of the London branch. Domnia, little more than a thug who had believed that her ilk, the Neo, were one step beyond Mutantkind. She was the latest White Queen. Finally, there was Vargas, the White King and previously a power player in Europe. Has-beens, wash-ups, and generally arrogant bastards.

Sebastian Shaw, Black King of the Hellfire Club, sighed in disappointment and resentment.

"We need to consider the effect this announcement will have on those we have allied ourselves with," Vargas stated.

"You mean our investors? Don't worry about it," Shaw grumbled.

"This is insane!" Domina screamed, punched the heavy wooden table and nearly shattering it.

"Oh?"

"We need to be out there, side-by-side with the Marauders! Killing the statics!"

"Best we don't associate ourselves with known killers, my dear," Shaw suggested. "Our best defense is to remain where we are, tugging the strings, and maintaining our status. We must focus on bringing in more humans and Mutants. Influence the way this affects the world."

"Who cares about the world?" Ms. Steed questioned. "My concern is today, Mr. Shaw. As in, how will this affect our money?"

Shaw had just rolled his eyes when the doors blasted open and three Prime Sentinels marched inside. Shaw was almost happy for the distraction.

That was, until the ceiling was ripped off.

Five three-story Mark VI Sentinels stood above them, red eyes scanning the room.

"SHAW!" yelled out Vargas as energy beams unleashed from both the Primes and the Mark VI Sentinels.

Sebastian Shaw had no chance to appreciate the irony. He had contributed money into constructing these Sentinels. And now, they were hell-bent on destroying everything he had worked for. It was all so clear. Prime Sentinels infiltrated the Hellfire Club. Was it over? Was this the end of it?

Shaw dodged an energy beam from the Mark VIs, rolling underneath a bookcase that was about collapse. He let it smash against his body, absorbing the kinetic energy it gave off.

Vargas, his sword in hand, leapt towards one of the Prime Sentinels. It slashed off the Primes' hand, but blasted Vargas hard with the other. Vargas stumbled, shocked at the intensity of the burst. Two of the Prime Sentinels rushed him, one blasting him in the chest; the other grabbed his hands and tore the sword away from him.

The pair of Prime Sentinels went about pounding Vargas. Vargas was able to get off a few quick blows, sending one of the Primes into the wall. Unfortunately, the Prime recovered quickly and blasted Vargas fully. This, coupled with a physical attack from the other Prime Sentinel, ripped Vargas in two.

Ms. Steed unleashed her psi-knifes at her Prime Sentinel . . . to avail. There was no mind to grab on to. She barely had a second to scream as a repulser blast hit her mid-section, killing her.

Domina screamed as she launched into her attack. Shaw had just picked himself up as he watched her in battle. He had to admit, for all her bravado, she had the skills to back it up. She was able to do more damage than Vargas, ripping the head of the Prime Sentinel that killed Steed right off.

"I will not be broken by human machines!" she screamed, her body resisting the repulser beams of the Mark VI.

"UP-GRADE!" shouted the two Prime Sentinels that just killed Vargas.

Shaw felt the heat of a repulser as he himself was attacked from above. His skin burned as the beam swept through the room. Shaw did not yell out in pain as he pushed against the fireplace, searching for the secret lever that would give him access to one of the many passages in the structure.

There was a burst of light as repulser beams from all the Sentinels intersected Domina. She then joined her husband and child in death.

Shaw would not see her yet.

The Sentinels turned their attention to him.

"Shaw Omega Five!" he shouted at them. "Password: Diamond! Execute override!"

It was a long shot. He had this virus installed back when he had influence on the Sentinel program. It was supposed to hide in the operational standards of all Sentinel programs, passing from generation to generation . . .

"Target: Sebastian Shaw has escaped," all the Sentinels said at once.

Shaw breathed a sigh of relief and tended to his finding of the lever.

Fires burned and alarms sounded inside the structure. He also heard the shouts of humans voice. They were coming. Shaw, still injured, made his escape.

* * *

Twenty-Four hours ago.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the press corps, my name is Director Valerie Cooper of the Office of National Emergency. At approximately 10:14 PM last night, we authorized the use of Sentinels on the Inner Circle of the Hellfire Club. We believe it was this organization that was behind the recent attack in Los Angeles. Evidence has been uncovered that Shaw Industries paid the mercenaries to attack Los Angeles as a show of power to many of his competitors in the city.

"Sebastian Shaw, and we can confirm that he was a Mutant, is currently on the run. The Office of National Emergency is currently working with the FBI in shutting down all US-based Hellfire Club branches. We are also pursuing warrants in England, France, Russia, Australia, China, and Japan to shut down branches overseas.

"Despite the effectiveness of last nights attack, Sebastian Shaw was able to evade capture. He is to be considered highly dangerous. We are currently following up on many leads in an attempt to track him down. That being said, be aware that Mister Shaw has considerable influence in the Mutant community. If a Mutant is spotted in your neighborhood or you suspect that a Mutant is acting suspiciously, please report them to your local law enforcement.

"Thank you. There will be no questions."

* * *

Now.

Erik listened to Jean tell the story and considered it all. He then turned to Jean fully and took in a deep breath. They sat in a small cabin next to the ocean; devoid of most signs of modern technology except for a small computer that in the corner.

"What does this have to do with me?"

"I came back to Earth because it was time to take action. John Sublime – the same creature that took over your mind and turned you into Xorn – is manipulating humanity into a war with Mutantkind. A war they will win. Sublime, in addition to basically taking over the Office of National Emergency, has every single kind of Sentinel at his disposal. Prime Sentinels can manifest in anyone now. More than that, he's developed a way to turn humans into Mutant-killing Predators by reverse engineering the Brood."

Erik felt a fury of defiance overtake. "Mutantkind can overcome that."

"Erik . . . look into my eyes and see that they can't."

Erik turned to Jean and locked eyes with her. In the span of a second, he watched as armies of Prime Sentinels overcame the X-Men. Executed most of them. He witnessed Predators rushing into homes and killing children that would develop into Mutants. He watched as decades passed by, John Sublime never aging, but his killing methods growing more impressive.

He watched as history repeated itself over and over again until nothing was left but a handful of humans, millions of Sentinels, and John Sublime standing atop the rubble that was once Earth.

"What he has unleashed today is just the beginning of the horrors Sublime will release unless someone stands up to him." She paused and looked down. "I – the Phoenix – was sent back to Earth to burn away humanity before it destroyed both itself and Mutantkind."

Erik grinned. "You? Sent to destroy mankind to save Mutantkind? That sounds . . . very anti-Xavier, if you ask me."

Jean nodded. "Yes, well, that's why I'm here. I need to show the powers-that-be that Mutants can weather this storm. I can't go to the X-Men because it goes against everything that Xavier has taught us. But you . . . you're a symbol for Mutant strength and superiority. I'm giving you the chance to stand against the worst elements of humanity."

Erik listened to her words and looked out the window at the ocean as it crashed against the rocks.

"Erik . . . the power of the Phoenix can break the laws of time and space. I can bring you whoever you want. Whoever you need. Dead or alive."

He looked longingly at the ocean, then to Jean fully. His hand outstretched. A cabinet door opened up and his helmet floated to him.

"Who do you need?" Jean asked.

Erik, the helmet taking its place on his head, gathered his armor. It flowed across his body, replacing the dirty jeans and t-shirt. His old body embraced the strength the magnetized armor gave him. Magneto closed his eyes thoughtfully . . . then opened them and committed to his next act.

"An army," he answered. "Bring me everyone."

END OF PART ONE

CONTINUED IN "THE DREAM – PART TWO: FRAYED EDGES"


End file.
